Fantasy reading

I’m reading a kind of fantasy novel, or at least a fantastical novel: How Steeple Sinderby Wanderers Won the FA Cup, an underdog tale by J.L. Carr (who also wrote A Month in the Country). Today, in real life, the FA Cup final was disputed between two quintessential non-underdogs: Manchester City and Manchester United. The Citizens won. They scored the first goal after just fifteen seconds.

I’m also reading “fantasy proper”: Harry Potter, no. 4. I kept my promise to Karin, which was to read the first two novels, and then I decided to finish the series. If I’d known that they’re mystery novels, I would have read them sooner.

We’re also viewing the movies. Tonight we finished Chamber of Secrets (or, as I like to call it, Chamber of Toilets). It took three days to watch because we kept having to pause it, what with all the noise of Samuel’s crying out how he loves Harry, Hagrid, etc., and his loudly murmuring magical gibberish.

He’s going through a curious phase. He wants the living room curtains to stay closed. If I bring the street into view, he goes to his room and lies on his bed, in the dark. He might be onto something. Today we got junk mail with a photo of our house printed on the envelope.

He’s particularly afraid of the ice-cream truck. He might be onto something there, too.

P.S. As a family, we’re reading The Princess and the Goblin.

This is not a genre in which I especially like to read, but somehow I’ve already created a fantasy reading schedule for the next two years.

The sports

We watch the White Sox’s starting pitcher give up his first hit against the Twins, after 8 2/3 innings. He looks like his dog just died.

We tried, he says. But they got us.

Yeah, if by “they got us” he means they spoiled his no-hitter but still lost thirteen to zero and ran out of pitchers. (Two of their position players had to take the mound. What’s wrong with that guy’s wind-up? What’s wrong with his hair? Since when do pitchers look like that?, I wondered before I realized what was going on.)

Still, I bet the Twins are drinking champagne and dancing a conga back in the clubhouse. Back in Minneapolis, even. Because the Sox didn’t get a no-hitter against them.

Well, maybe they are doing those things. What do I know. Baseball culture is so bizarre to me.

Why is that player spitting so much?, Karin asks.

They always spit.

You know what I miss from playing tee-ball and softball? she says. When we’d line up and tell each other “Good game.”

Then:

Who is that ancient guy in the Medicare commercial?

I squint at the TV. It’s late. My contact lenses are drying up inside my eyelids.

Joe Namath.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Were I a loyal South Bender, I’d watch Notre Dame get beaten by Ohio State. But I must not be one, because no matter what I do with the antennae and the remote control, I can’t get ABC to come in on the TV.

I really do want to watch, honest. I really do want to see the Irish lose. How the years have changed me.

This game is all they were talking about at work today, Karin says.

Is it being played here, or in Columbus?, I ask. (Don’t shake your head at me. I really don’t know. I seldom leave the house.)

Traffic hasn’t been all that bad, says Karin.

So the game must be in Columbus.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

For several years, I’ve been watching video highlights of Erling Haaland without ever seeing him in real time. Until today, that is, when he suits up for his new club, Manchester City, against Aston Villa.

Some stats from the TV:

In his first half-dozen English Premier League matches, Haaland has scored ten goals; only one other person has done that.

During the season’s first five matches, Haaland scored one goal for every fifteen touches of the ball. One goal per twenty-five touches is supposed to be a world-class scoring rate. (The announcers don’t explain what they mean by “world class,” but I assume it’s something good.)

In six games, Haaland has scored more goals from within the six-yard box than any other EPL player has scored – except for one other (unnamed) player – since the beginning of last season. That is, he leads virtually everyone in that category even though he’s been eligible during 30–40 fewer games.

Scoring so many goals from inside the six-yard box means this. The player has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. And the defenders know this about him, and they still lose track of him.

In other words, he’s very, very smart.

Haaland gets today’s goal from inside the six-yard box; indeed, he scores it with his very first touch from inside the penalty box. He’s been marked so carefully that it’s taken him until the second half to get that touch. (It isn’t as if his positioning has been bad. His runs into open spaces have been impeccable all day long, although the passes to him haven’t been.)

But what most impresses me is his hold-up and linking play. Even with defenders climbing up his back or wrenching him to the ground, he controls waist-high passes and lays the ball off, smoothly and with perfect timing, to onrunning teammates. I’d start him on my team even if he never scored any goals. Teams have won with non-scoring strikers who did superb hold-up work. Haaland does that, and he’ll probably end up scoring more goals than anybody else.

More quarterfinals

Attack, attack, attack was the theme of the first three quarterfinals, beginning with Atalanta’s.

In the second quarterfinal, RB Leipzig, which came into existence just eleven years ago, outplayed and defeated Atlético de Madrid (who’d so impressively ousted title-holders Liverpool). Leipzig sliced through Atlético’s middle for the first goal. The winning goal was fired in after a clever low cross.

Leipzig’s young center-back, Dayot Upamecano, bossed Atlético’s strikers.

The next game was one of the most breakneck-paced contests I’ve seen at this level. Both Baryern and Barça threw caution to the wind. Bayern’s high defensive line was especially shocking.

Indeed, the Catalans had early chances. They didn’t take enough of them. The Bavarians romped to a 4–1 victory in each half, improving upon their 7–2 group stage victory over the Potato Tots.

The experts are predicting that Barça will be renovated through and through.

There was less attacking in Lyon’s surprising victory over Manchester City. The Citizens possessed the ball but lacked ideas. The “signature” moment occurred when Raheem Sterling missed the tying goal just feet from the empty net.

Outcomewise there are various possibilities, but Bayern has the best team this year.

Poor Liverpool

… tore through the English Premier League this season in pursuit of some amazing feats. Would they join 2003–2004 Arsenal as EPL “invincibles”? Would they repeat as European champions?

They would not.

In the EPL, they lost to Watford.

Then, Atlético de Madrid eliminated them from the Champions League.

Liverpool could have surpassed Manchester City’s EPL points record. But City thumped them as soon as they clinched the title; and today, needing a draw to be able to accumulate 100 points, as City had done two seasons before, Liverpool suffered a lackluster defeat to Arsenal.

I watched on Peacock TV, NBC’s new streaming site, as Liverpool became also-rans in comparison to other champions. The futility was palpable. Jürgen Klopp, Liverpool’s manager, seethed.

This acclaimed team is, ultimately, a less memorable one than the 2015–2016 Leicester team that accumulated just 81 points.

Lost in the woods

At the end of this mild winter, a (near-)blizzard.

I took Samuel outside to empty out the mailbox. The wind blew some coupon sheets out my hand. I had to chase them across the snowy driveway, bending over several times, almost flipping Samuel upside-down.

It was a high point for him. He also enjoyed watching the Champions League (Real Madrid 1, Manchester City 2; red card to Sergio Ramos).

Most of the day, Samuel was extremely grouchy, but at night he turned on the charm, smiling broadly and lying back in his chair with his hands behind his head (how he learned to do that, I’m not sure).

Karin has been listening to this song from Frozen II. I can’t help but recall Michael W. Smith.

The first shower

Karin & I held the first of two gift showers for our son. This shower, organized by Mary, was attended by friends and family members who don’t worship at our church. (The church’s shower will occur next month.)

As the gifts were being unwrapped, I realized what a large proportion of the clothes from Karin’s wish list were fox-themed. Our boy also received some Fighting Irish onesies from my Domer cousin, Vickie; some Star Trek-themed Little Golden Books and clothes from Karin’s dad and his girlfriend, Carol, who are die-hard Trekkies; and a few tiger-themed items, including a Cincinnati Bengals outfit (the Bengals are Carol’s team).

Not only have our son’s gender, nationality, and religion – the standard identities – been settled well before his birth, but also, apparently, his mammalian, collegiate, intergalactic, and athletic preferences.

I was the only man at the shower. I tried to watch Manchester City vs. the Potato Tots on my computer, but the flash player wouldn’t work.

Three soccer finals

On Sunday, the final matches were held for three major tournaments.

The Women’s World Cup final

I watched much of this – but not all of it (there were competing obligations of church and lunch).

The gringas appeared to be as dominant as they ever have been in history.

The Dutch weren’t bad, exactly, but their plan was too timid: they defended near their own goal and tried to counterattack with just one or two players. Their goose was cooked when they committed a ridiculous penalty foul which gave the USA the lead.

On the gringas’ second goal, the Dutch backpedaled down the middle of the field until the opposing ball carrier was close enough to shoot.

Here are scenes of the gringas partying in their locker room.

The Copa América final

This was a good, old-fashioned Southern Cone-style brawl. Don’t let Brazil’s glamorous reputation fool you. This team is basically another Uruguay – very tough on defense, organized without the ball, slick in attack at the most devastating moments.

The referee called two controversial penalties – one for each side, which I thought good – and had the guts to eject the diaper boy Gabriel Jesus.

Let me forestall misunderstanding: I like Gabriel Jesus, despite his rather sordid tastes (according to Wikipedia, he “reportedly chose to wear number 33” for his club team, Manchester City, “in tribute to the age at which Jesus Christ is believed to have been crucified,” and he and fellow diaper boy Neymar “got matching tattoos … depicting a boy overlooking a favela”). On the field, everything Gabriel Jesus does is productive – which distinguishes him from Neymar.

If Neymar had been playing, I doubt Brazil would’ve been able to control the game so well without the ball. Neymar would’ve insisted on dribbling everywhere.

Instead, he watched from the stands. (The next day, he would miss a training session for his club team, Paris Saint-Germain, triggering much speculation in the press.) He’d been left off Brazil’s roster because of an ankle injury. He’d also been accused of rape.

His replacement, Everton, won the tourney’s Golden Ball award and, in the final match, scored a goal and drew a penalty foul.

Of the Peruvians, we can say that they played well but were unable to break down the Brazilian defense.

The Gold Cup final

I only saw the highlights of this final, which appears to have been a closer contest than I expected.

Some of my friends here in South Bend are diehard USA fans. I wonder: did any of them make the trip to Soldier Field in Chicago?

If so, what was it like in that cauldron, 75% of which was occupied by fans of Mexico?

Trash-talking

The Champions League final will be played in two days.

Vicente del Bosque, who has won the Champions League as the coach of Real Madrid, as well as the World Cup and the Euros as the coach of Spain, believes that Real Madrid will handily defeat Liverpool. He doesn’t think there’s “even one Liverpool player who would improve Madrid, not even [Mohamed] Salah” (the quotation is from this article).

Actually, right now, Salah is better than any of Madrid’s forwards, but del Bosque has an excellent point. Player for player, Real Madrid is overwhelmingly the better team.

Then again, that is why Liverpool employs the “storming” tactic (see two entries ago). It allows a team to have a good chance, head-to-head, against an opponent whose players are more skillful. Already this year, it has allowed Liverpool to thrash Manchester City.

In other news, the legendary Xavi, formerly of Barcelona, offers this amusing analysis of Real Madrid’s defensive midfielder, Casemiro:

“Madrid break apart, seven players attack and Casemiro stays back on his own to cover the centre.”

Pretty impressive, right? Covering the center all alone? Not impressive enough for Xavi:

“He does not dominate space-time.”

Whoa. That’s a tall order. I’m not even sure if I dominate space-time.

I predict that the score will be Real Madrid 3, Liverpool 1. But I want Liverpool to win, and I think that that could very well happen.

There’s a storm coming

The final of the UEFA Champions League will take place in about one week, on Saturday, May 26. Liverpool and Real Madrid are the contestants. Neither came close to winning its respective domestic league this year.

How, then, did these teams manage to do so well against the cream of Europe?

This article by Simon Kuper explains a key tactical concept: “storming,” or relentlessly trying to steal the ball in the other team’s end of the field.

Storming is my preferred way of playing small-field soccer. Imagine playing a full-court press on a basketball court against opponents who aren’t allowed to use their hands. The odds of stealing the ball are good.

On a full-sized field, however, ball carriers have more space, and those who press must sprint farther. Storming is much harder to pull off.

Regular soccer is like stone/paper/scissors. Teams that specialize in keeping possession and passing out from the back are vulnerable against teams that specialize in storming. This is because storming creates turnovers near the goal. But teams that are good at storming suffer more against less skillful teams that settle for “parking the bus” in front of the goal with nine or ten defenders. This is because teams that storm are more vulnerable to counterattacks. They also thrive in chaos, which is what other teams avoid succumbing to when they park the bus.

This explains why F.C. Barcelona, the renowned master of keeping possession and inflicting “death by a thousand cuts,” continues to dominate in the Spanish league. Barcelona and the stormers at Atlético de Madrid both play against less skillful opponents who try to park the bus. Over the course of a lengthy round-robin tournament, this favors Barcelona over Atlético. (Real Madrid isn’t a pure representative of any of these styles. More on R.M. later.)

On the other hand, in the Champions League knockout stages, Barcelona must occasionally get past a storming team without relying on its superior record against other contestants. Barcelona faces much worse odds when it goes head-to-head against such foes. And so it has been knocked out by such stormers as Atlético, two years ago, and Roma, this year.

In its quarterfinal, Liverpool, a storming team, knocked out Manchester City, which likes to do some storming but is more of a possession outfit. Liverpool then outstormed like-minded Roma in the semifinal.

(In the English league standings, however, City left Liverpool in the dust.)

Of the three strategies, “death by a thousand cuts” and “storming” require the most specific personnel. (Just about any team can “park the bus” as long as it has one speedy forward who can retain possession long enough.) In particular, it’s hard for a team to acquire midfielders who are good possession-keepers and good stormers. The mindset required for making sustained charges into the thick of things is the opposite of the mindset for drifting into space, receiving the ball, slowing things down, and making judicious passes.

This is where Real Madrid, with its great wealth, has the advantage over everyone else. It has enough good players to try either strategy. When an opposing team parks the bus, R.M. can inflict the thousand cuts. And when R.M. comes up against a storming team, it can bring in players to switch out of its usual possession mode. Thus, at each new knockout stage, it adapts itself to its opponent.

This ability to match up well against a variety of foes is what allows R.M. to get through knockout tie after knockout tie, year after year, even in a very bad year. Of course, all it takes to be eliminated is one bad matchup. Liverpool isn’t built to win a round-robin league against good possession teams, but it is built to shred even the best opponent on a given night.

If I were coaching Real Madrid against Liverpool, I’d have my defenders simply kick the ball down the field and hope for my skilled attackers to retain possession. And if they couldn’t, I’d switch tactics and park the bus.

Whatever happens, I don’t think this game will offer much by way of midfield sophistication.

A Mancunian classic

The best game that I saw last year involved a league’s second-placed team trying to keep its archrival from walking away with the title.

The game that I watched today, while not as technically satisfying, was just as dramatic and probably will end up as the best game of this season. Moreover, it was played under similar circumstances: Manchester United was looking to keep its local rival, Manchester City, from clinching the English league title with six games to spare.

In the first half, the Citizens scored twice within five minutes. Their first goal was headed in by their captain, Vincent Kompany, who’d scored in previous title-clinching matches. It was a good omen for them; more importantly, they kept United from attempting a single shot.

But United played with greater urgency in the second half. Soon, Paul Pogba had scored two goals. United’s third goal followed not long after. Suddenly, the Citizens were reeling.

The Red Devils stayed calm and earned an unlikely victory. I was proud of my compatriot, Antonio Valencia, United’s captain. In the waning moments, he expertly ran down the clock as he very slowly took the free kicks and throw-ins near his sideline.

Afterward, the Red Devils stayed on the field to celebrate (though surely City will clinch the title in the coming weeks). The Citizens’ fans were in tears. All season, the Citizens have been described as perhaps the best English team ever to play. Now, they’re in danger of being remembered as just another domestic champion. And on Tuesday, they’ll probably be eliminated from the UEFA Champions League by Liverpool, whom they trail by three goals in their quarterfinal series.

An ill wife; la sub-20; Premier League strikers; N’Golo Kanté

Karin’s been ill. Today I finally persuaded her to stay at home. She works six days each week, and, during her days off, she goes to church and either counts the offering money or teaches Sunday school.

Right now, she appears to be sleeping comfortably, which makes me happy.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Ecuador’s sub-20 lads finished second in the continental tourney, two places higher than they needed to. The Uruguayans finished first. Their team easily was the best.

The Brazilians, runners-up two years ago in the under-20 World Cup, finished fifth in South America and failed to qualify for this year’s global tourney. In the matches that I watched, they looked simply awful.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I wonder how the Brazilians would’ve fared if they’d called up their latest national hope, the 19-year-old striker, Gabriel Jesus, who’s been starting for Man City. This young man is quite the sensation. After just a few of his performances in the Premier League, the soap opera has become: What’ll happen to Sergio Agüero? (Agüero is the team’s established goalscorer. For several years, he’s been quite deadly with Man City, though not so much with Argentina.)

Ship him out, says one Yahoo! columnist. Maybe swap him for Alexis Sánchez.

Such drama. In this league, it appears that any given striker is disposable. (Luis Suárez was the last striker who definitely wasn’t.)

There was talk earlier this season of the transcendence of Diego Costa. Then he pouted and got benched a little, and his team performed just as well without him.

Now people are talking about his teammate, Eden Hazard. Hazard is good, but if he were to play for Leicester City, he’d be a shadow of his precocious self (as, last season, he was a shadow; as, this season, all the Leicester players are mere shadows).

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Meanwhile, N’Golo Kanté makes a humble living chewing up the league. He’s like a buzzsaw perched upon a Roomba. Last season, Sir Alex Ferguson said that Kanté was the league’s best player by far. But Kanté’s goalscoring teammates got the accolades.

This season, playing with even more illustrious teammates, Kanté might be named the Player of the Year.

Kanté’s is an up-close style. His long passing is not remarkable. His best passes are like dribbles: they’re short touches. His specialty is arriving early to where the ball is traveling and then shoving himself between the ball and the opponent carrying it.

He excels at this because he’s tiny. He’ll run into a thicket of players and come out with the ball. He likes thickets; he seeks them out; he foresees better than the other players how the ball will carom off the others’ legs.

(Today I added a footnote about N’Golo Kanté to my dissertation.)

A brave couple of games

South Bend is powdery now. Jasper, who used to run out into the yard every time he could, has been staying well away from the front door. Karin & I’ve been doing seasonal errands – retrieving my coats from Martin’s & Mary’s house; buying salt for the outdoor staircase.

Yesterday, I walked to Bethel in the snow. It wasn’t a difficult walk, but in the classroom the melted snow dripped down from my curly, long locks.

I’m on Cloud Six or Seven because all of my course prepping is done. What remains is to give exams and to grade.

Today, I allowed myself a break and watched two soccer games. In the first one, Leicester City demolished Manchester City with some fine counter-attacking and less than thirty percent of the total possession. The British announcers enjoyed skewering Pep Guardiola, the possession guru, manager of Man City. “He won’t win the League this way,” they said. It was a proud moment for British soccer. And, truth be told, on the counter, Leicester looked lovelier than Man City ever did.

Then I went to Stephen’s and we watched B.S.C. play the last game of the season – the “victory lap” game (the championship had been clinched the week before). Though I’d watched plenty of games this year, I’d yet to see Barcelona take the lead in a game and win. In the first half, our lead was 3 to 0. Even our goalie, the brave Máximo Banguera, scored. Then, in the second half, the game fell apart. An offside goal was wrongly given, our opponents scored twice more, and I had to settle for watching a draw.

Karin has just come into the house. When she opened the door, both kitties rushed out onto the snowy porch. The goose-brains (Karin calls them).